


Milk is Good (and Edward Elric may object, but we all know he's wrong)

by aroriza



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Gen, Humor, Post Promised Day, anyway this is horrible and nasty read it, hawkeyes not reallyinvolved so no taggin her but, idk mustang is partially blind in this but im not agging it, im suffering, lmao i saw this hc on tumble an d i cried at it so hear i am finaly posting da fic, lmao its not angst unless its me making fun of mustang, why can i not typing properl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4988227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroriza/pseuds/aroriza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Or maybe he's right, </i> Roy thinks, as he keels over.</p><p>Based on a headcanon by <a href="http://fullmetal-weaboo-trash.tumblr.com/">fullmetal-weaboo-trash</a> on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk is Good (and Edward Elric may object, but we all know he's wrong)

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i hate existence.
> 
> anyway i hate roy mustang and i love this post [lmao](http://blindroys.tumblr.com/post/131025294783/fullmetal-weaboo-trash-headcanon-roy-is)
> 
> ^^ that also links to my blog

Roy is officially done with everything hospital. He’s done with the sheets. He’s done with the smell. He feels that if he wasn’t completely blind for most of his visit, he’d be done with the nurse uniforms, too.

The nurse (Jane?) changes the bandages on his hands carefully. He can barely see her – the stone is working, yes, but it’s obviously too slow. It’s been a week, yet none of the details are in focus yet. The air itself looks like a smudged painting, like some toddler just spread its forearms all over it and left it to dry.

The nurse looks up and Roy can almost feel her beaming at him. “Mr. Mustang, your wounds are healing well. No sign of infections.”

 _Well, thank god. That would’ve been bad._ “I suppose that’s a good thing,” Roy replies. “It’d be bad if there were.”

The nurse… nods? Roy’s not sure, but that’s what he thinks it looks like. “I’m sure it is,” she says, moving her cart away from the bed. It squeals against the ground and Roy digs his fingers into the mattress. He hates that sound. It’s absolutely grating to his ears, which were already sensitive enough due to his reliance on them from the past few weeks.

He’s jostled from his position when the nurse places a tray on his lap. “This is lunch, sir,” she says, while proceeding to leave.

He takes a bite of…  whatever the main entrée is supposed to be (does it matter? It all looks like a giant blob to him.) and chews reluctantly, remembering his biggest qualm with hospitals.

 _God_ , he’s sick of hospital food.

* * *

It doesn’t take long for him to leave his food tray behind in the room. Hawkeye’s still sleeping in her mound of hospital blankets, so no need to wake her up. At this point, he’s sure he’s not too blind to go wandering the hospital for its cafeteria. Even if the food there is weak, at least he might get some good conversation.

He regrets the decision just a bit after he trips over the stairs twice and runs into the wall entering the cafeteria. A couple of forks clatter to the ground, someone giggles, and if he’s right, the same someone stands up.

“Colonel!”

Oh, that little shit. A (flesh?) arm grabs his hand and drags him to their table, seating Roy across from him. (it’s his right arm!)

“Hello, Fullmetal.” There’s a figure at Fullmetal’s side, too, pale and clothed in hospital blue. The long gold hair identifies him as an Elric. “Is that you Alphonse?”

Roy can’t see his smile too well, but it’s kind of like how Al was back in armor – even without a body, Al could express his emotions. Al grins. "Yeah, it’s me.”

Roy blinks. “Wow.”

His pretty sure Al is still smiling. “Yeah.”

Roy lays his elbows on the table and stares at Fullmetal. “Now that’s impressive.”

“More impressive than you, I’m sure,” he quips back, and Roy cannot object.

He taps his fingers on the table. “Fullmetal, can you tell me what’s on the menu? I’m afraid that my sight is feebler than usual.”

Ed… scowls? “It’s just Edward. And there’s a lot of things on the menu.”

Al butts in. “There’s just sandwiches and salads and stuff. The typical fare.”

Roy smiles at Al, who’s always infinitely more helpful than his brother. “Thanks,” he says, standing up and making his way around to what he believes to be the counter. The cashier greets him warmly with respect to his current disability, telling him what exactly they had. In the end, he took some basic fish entrée and a couple of bottles of milk – protein, vitamin D, and calcium, probably some things he needs right now.

“Eww,” Fullmetal says the second he gets back to the table and places the milk down.

Roy smirks. “Oh? I take it you don’t like milk?”

“It’s just so thick and gross,” Edward retorts. “Why do people like it?”

The smirk does not fall off Roy’s face – it deepens. “I don’t think that it’s so much we like it as it helps us grow.”

Ed starts, like usual. The noise chokes out of his mouth; it’s gaping so wide Roy can see the pinks and whites there.

 _“Brother,”_ is all Al has to say to stop the torrent.

“Well, Fullmetal, have fun disliking milk. I’m gonna chug this thing like a boss. Which I am, by the way. I’m your boss.  I take it you’re still contracted to the military? Grab me another two bottles of milk.” He hands Ed the money for it.

Ed cringes. “Eww.”

He hands Ed another few bills. “Make that three.”

“Yeah, umm, sir? You’re going to get lactose poisoning,” Al says.

Roy swills the milk around in his first bottle. “Al, these bottles are tiny. There’s no harm in drinking a few.”

“Sir, this isn’t alcohol.”

Ed returns and places the bottles in front of him, scowling. “I hope you drink all that milk and die.”

“Oh, so you can tell me ‘I told you so’ in the afterlife? I’m afraid that I’m not going to die today, Fullmetal,” he says, still smirking and chugging milk from his first bottle.

“You just wait, Colonel.”

“Wow, is this strength I’m feeling? Maybe if I were your age, I’d be growing!” The second bottle is halfway finished.

“You’re dying, old man. The milk is atrophying your insides.”

“No, I’m pretty sure this is life that I’m feeling. Mothers feed their calves milk so they’ll grow up big and strong, am I right Fullmetal?” He throws aside his second bottle and opens his third.

“Well then you’re just an overgrown baby.”

 _“Brother,”_ Al says, before glancing over at Mustang. **_“Colonel.”_** A strangulated sound escapes his mouth.

“Hmm, yes, Al?” Roy responds while twisting his fourth bottle open.

“That’s not healthy, Colonel. You’re going to die.”

“Thanks for your concern, Al,” he replies, taking a sip from his bottle. “Unfortunately, you’ll find that it’s unfounded. Milk was my favorite drink as a child.”

“Yes, Colonel, but it’s been _years_ since then.”

_“I – “_

A groan catches him and his stomach lurches in anger. _“Ugh,”_ is all he manages to get out before he falls off his seat.

“He’s dying! I knew it!”

Roy is going to _claw_ Ed to death. He’d do it now, but the hospital staff’s heads are turning his way (at least, he’s pretty sure that’s what would happen if you said someone was dying in the hospital.).

“Umm, excuse me, but does he require attention?”

Roy can’t see it, but he can practically hear Ed’s grin crawl up his face. “No, no, he’s fine.”

 _“Brother,”_ Al says.

“Alright, just checking,” the person says before leaving.

Ed pokes his foot into Roy’s side. “Wow, Colonel, your digestive system sure is fast. I thought it took longer to die.”

Roy growls while curling up around his stomach, the source of his pain. “Fuc – Go away, Fullmetal.”

“Edward.”

“Help me up, Fullmetal.”

“It’s Edward.”

“Just help him, Brother.”

Roy decides that Al is a godsend. Thank everything for Al. If there was anything pure left in the world, it was Al.

Ed snorts before grabbing Roy, and soon he is back up on the seat before he knows it. His face immediately drops to the table and he clenches his stomach in agony.

“This,” he says between gritted teeth, “is painful.”

“Colonel,” Al says. “Haven’t you been stabbed before?”

“Nothing. That’s nothing compared to this.”

“Colonel, that’s not right. Are you sure you aren’t lactose intolerant?”

His teeth are starting to hurt from how tight he’s gritting them. “Absolutely not. I used to love milk as a child. It was my favorite drink.”

Ed’s smirking; Roy can tell. “Well that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.”

Roy is just about to respond before he feels it. It’s like a bubble or a flower blooming in his ass, growing to take up his intestine. Another exhale and the fart squeaks and bursts past the boundary he calls his body.

It’s not inconspicuous. It’s loud. It squeals for at least fifteen seconds straight. And it smells.

His face flushes bright red. He’s never been a blusher, but at this point he’s turned into a literal cherry.

No point in accidentally falling of the chair now.  He practically dives off his chair into the cold, comforting depths below the table.

Ed’s laughing isn’t very inconspicuous either. Roy is sure that everybody’s heads are turning their way. He pats Ed’s legs furiously. _“Shut up,”_ he hisses.

“No – hah – this is – haha – this is _hilarious_ – “

Roy pinches Ed’s right leg hard.

“Ow!” Ed cries out.

_“Shut up!”_

_“Brother!”_

“Okay, okay!”

Roy’s stomach churns and the pain solidifies and sharpens in his gut once again. “Urghh,” he groans. “Bring Hawkeye.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, Colonel!” Ed exclaims. “She’s still healing.”

“Then take me to her,” he whines. His stomach grips and he’s sure it’s cramping now.

It hurts. A lot.

“Colonel, I don’t this is normal,” Al says quietly. It’s not soothing. “I think you need the doctor.”

“No! Just take me to the lieutenant!”

“Excuse me,” Al calls to the nearest passerby. “The Colonel requires medical attention!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Ignore what he says!”

“Just take me to the lieutenant!”

A… man (?) approached them and ducked his head under the table.  He’s close enough that even Mustang can catch his eyes widen. “Are you okay?”

_No!_

“I’m perfectly fine,” Roy replies. “Can you help me to Room 236?”

The man eyed the Elrics quizzically. “Umm, sure?”

He reached out his hand and Roy clutched on to it immediately. The man may be freaked out, but Roy does not care.

Not till his ass says he does. With a huff, his digestive system lets out another bout of flatulence.

 _“Fuck!”_ He yelps loudly. The man leaps away from him, and the few people nearby are staring wide-eyed at Roy. The lady walking with her food back to her seat drops her plate and it clatters on the ground.

It’s silent, save for Ed’s laughing.

 _“Brother,”_ Al says, and then the silence is complete.

**Author's Note:**

> "his troubles are too relatable," i say while drinking milk and shitting everywhere
> 
> (also quick btw, that line with the "im ur commanding officer get me milk" is almost directly from fullmetal-weaboo-trash, so creds to them!)
> 
> anyway tell me how that went


End file.
